Shall We Dance? OneShot, TwoShot
by theallbadhat
Summary: Ch.3 Don & a little pole dancing nothing less than boxers and undershirt, so T rating. Ch.1 OneShot: Don teaches Charlie to dance. Ch.2&3 Setup and Don Gets it in the End TwoShot.
1. Shall We Dance?

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or any character therein. I do not own the rights to _Brighter than Sunshine- _it is Aqualung's; the lyrics are all over the internet, so I assume this is in the public domain. The quotes at the end are from _A Streetcar Named Desire,_ copyright 1951, also in the public domain; I put them in italics to identify them.

Author's note: Three dance stories- a oneshot, a twoshot, and a threeshot. This is the oneshot- bang.

The elevator door finally slid open, as Don slinked out into the bull pen, minus the bull; except for the receptionist, there was no one on the floor, so the usually busy labyrinth of cubicles was stilled and calm. The clock on the wall registered the time as 6:34am. The agent strode slowly to his desk, his body feeling crumbled and worn within the black t-shirt and jeans that loosely covered it. He was planning to file a report about his team's activities over the past two days. While his underlings had gone home the night before, he had stayed up all night at his apartment typing the team's findings into a neat, somewhat coherent package. Now, all he had to do was transfer the information into the Bureau's main computer frame and he could go home for some sleep of his own.

The quiet of the office space threatened to lull Don to sleep, so he stepped into the staff lounge to get some caffeine. He was pleased to find a pot full of coffee already sitting there, but _surprised_ to find a chair full of Charlie as well, who was busy scribbling various unknown equations on a small pad of paper. He was also dressed in jeans, but his were topped off with a flame-red t-shirt and an unbuttoned white, short-sleeved dress shirt; the younger Eppes looked like packaged energy, his right hand continuously writing while his left tugged his long, curly hair out of his face and behind his ears every few seconds.

Filling up a cup with hot liquid and Splenda, Don pulled a chair up to the table upon which Charlie was leaning, the mathematician's eyes completely engrossed with the work in front of him.

"Hey, buddy- whatcha doing here so early in the morning?"

Charlie jumped a little at the sound of his brother's voice, and then he looked at him with shy eyes. At first, he could not speak, but the encouraging warmth of his brother's smile unfroze his voice and allowed it to expel a soft reply.

"I thought- well, I needed to ask you about a problem I have- a subject I don't have much data about- at least, not enough to solve the problem."

Charlie cleared his throat several times before continuing, his voice louder.

"You see, it's a problem I need to solve by tonight- otherwise, the outcome will be a sum that is really undesirable."

Charlie looked away, embarrassed.

Don looked at his brother, his previous weariness shedding away the moment his interest in helping his brother overtook him; his body was revitalized. Reassuringly, Don patted his brother on the shoulder.

"Go ahead, buddy, I'll do whatever I can to help you solve this problem," Don stated firmly, adding "I promise."

Trusting his brother, but no one else, Charlie looked around to make sure they were alone.

Seeing what he was doing, Don laughed, "Don't worry- no one comes here till well past seven. You and me are the only idiots who would think to be here at this time of day."

Charlie smiled; then he started rambling.

"Okay, well, it's like this. We're having a big reception tonight at Cal Sci- I mean big to the nth degree. I hadn't planned on going, but Amita called me last night and asked me if I could take her- and, of course, I said yes- 'cause, it's Amita- of course, I wanted to go since she asked me- and it's Amita- so we're going, and I'm taking her, to this reception- it's going to be big- and, you know, Amita, well, she likes to dance- maybe you didn't know, but she does- and I would like to, too, I mean also- you know, like to dance, because she'll be disappointed- that is, Amita will be disappointed if I can't- you know, if I can't dance with her- and I can't, I mean, dance..."

Don interrupted Charlie with a hand in front of his face and a stern "Hold up."

Charlie did as he was told, chewing on his bottom lip and looking at Don like he had just been scolded.

"Are you trying to tell me the problem you have is that you can't dance?" inquired Don, lowering his hand and looking straight at his brother.

"Yeah, Don- I can't dance," Charlie admitted glumly.

Suddenly, Don's face lit up with a big, beaming smile. He stood up quickly and pulled his brother to his feet from behind, startling the professor so much that the chair he was sitting on clanged to the floor out from under him. Don grabbed his younger brother by the arm and pulled him through the bull pen, he himself looking around for other people; there was no one. He tried various doors as he dragged his helpless brother behind him. Finally, a door opened under his strong grip, and the two brothers fell into an interrogation room, Don turning the lock behind them.

His eyes penetrating into every corner of the room, Don set about with his preparations. First, he picked up the three chairs that sat around a table in the center of the room; these he stacked into a corner. Next, he pushed the table against the far wall. Last, he checked the time- 6:52, plenty of time before others would arrive at work.

And then he turned with a grin to a stunned Charlie, who cowered against the wall, his mouth gaping at his brother.

"**Shall we dance?"** Don asked, bowing to his brother.

It took a moment for Charlie to understand the words of his brother, but as they sunk in, a grin of his own snaked across his face. He slowly moved to the center of the room, where Don now stood upright, waiting for Charlie's response.

"Really- you'll teach me?" he asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to be sure that Don was serious.

"Of, course, Charlie. Mom taught me the proper way to dance with a girl, and I'm now returning the favor to you."

Charlie felt warm inside, knowing that indirectly his mother was with them, and that his brother was willing to teach him to dance.

"Okay, Don- you can be the teacher today. What do I do?"

"Well, first I need to show you how to hold a girl- look, give me your hand-here."

Don indicated that Charlie place his right hand in Don's left.

"Now, your other hand goes around my waist,"

Charlie complied, loosely placing his hand at Don's waist, while Don placed his right hand on Charlie's left shoulder.

"Now, we're going to do something you're really good at- we're going to begin counting- real simple- like this: one, two, three, and one, two, three..."

As Don counted the numbers over and over, he began guiding Charlie along a circular path, trying to get his brother to move each time he recited a number, dipping both their bodies a little bit each time.

"Good, Charlie, good- that's it," Don encouraged his little brother. "Now, you try counting."

As he barely held on to his brother, Charlie started to count out loud, too, trying to keep his body moving to the simple beat.

"One, two, three, one, two, three..."

Charlie moved slowly with Don, stumbling over his feet a few times- and stepping on Don's more than a few.

Don ignored this, trying to keep Charlie focused.

"That's it, that's right- now, I think maybe you got it- try counting in your head while I keep counting out loud."

Attempting to do as his brother suggested, Charlie tried to count in his head-

One, two, three- One, two, three- one times two, three, one times two times three, one times two hundred times three, one times two hundred times-

WHOA!

Charlie and Don fell to the floor with a crash, their feet having gotten entangled when they began dancing out of step, causing each other to trip. They both let out a loud "Oof" when they hit the floor, Charlie landing partly under Don- but the eldest Eppes smoothly slid off his younger brother and just sat in the middle of the floor, trying to detect what had gone wrong. Charlie lay on his back looking up at the ceiling, a deep red blush inching across his face.

I'll never learn to dance, he thought, deciding that as soon as he had the guts to look at Don, he would thank him for trying- then he would take his so-called genius butte out of there as fast as he could.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was only a little past 7:00 when Agent Colby Granger passed through the bull pen, trying to find Don. The receptionist said he had arrived over half an hour before, and she had not seen him leave. Other agents were beginning to arrive, as there was supposed to be a small conference detailing the new firearms the Bureau had just purchased. Colby assumed everyone would want to be first to see the new weapons, the result being that the office would be loaded earlier than usual. It figures Don came early, Colby thought, he'd probably _pay_ just to run a finger along one of those guns. The young agent believed his older boss to be a combination of steel and iron tempered with the hot coals of a quick temper- the result, one tough machine- an opinion shared by most of his peers.

Colby rounded a corner of the office, did not see Don, and started turning to leavewhen asudden movement in one of the interrogation rooms caught his eye, and he walked slowly up to the one-way mirror to see who could be on the other side so early in the morning. He did a double-take when he realized it was his boss- and he was dancing with his brother, counting out loud "One, two, three, one, two, three..." Colby easily assessed the situation- Don was trying to teach Charlie to dance. For some reason, the agent had forgotten the conference and had decided to take advantage of what was _usually_ an empty office to play teacher to his brother. At this moment, both brothers seemed oblivious to the world around them, as they were concentrating so hard on counting.

Placing his hands on his hips and looking at the floor, Colby thought about the situation- and its possibilities.

Well, on the one hand, I should respect this obviously private moment between two brothers- one of whom is my boss, writes my reviews, and can probably kick my ass.

On the other hand-

Colby was too young and fresh to resist. He turned and practically ran to the bull pen, grabbing every agent he could find and talking in short spurts, gesturing toward the rear interrogation room.

If the agents had moved any faster, there would have been a stampede in the bull pen.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don slowly got up off the floor and stood up. He offered a hand to Charlie, who was still too embarrassed to look at his older brother and rolled over to his knees so he could stand on his own. Starting for the door, he apologized to Don over his shoulder, thanking him for trying his best.

Refusing to give up, Don strode to Charlie and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him around to face him. With his most serious voice, he stated-

"Okay- that's what we call a failed experiment. What we need to do is assess which, uh, variables we put in did not, uh, work- or whatever. You know- what went wrong?"

Then Don smiled at Charlie.

Charlie relaxed at his brother's smile- he wasn't angry at him for tripping. He tried to think what he had done wrong, but he felt he had been following every word of advice that Don had given him. All he had to do was keeping counting 'one, two, three, one, two, three, one times two, three, one times two times-'

"I think I found the source of the problem," Charlie smiled back at Don. "I just can't seem to concentrate on something as simple as counting to three over and over. My mind keeps wandering to multiplying those three numbers- and then making the numbers I'm multiplying bigger."

Scratching his head, Don thought about this unique problem. Counting to three had been the perfect way for his mother to teach him to dance. Somehow, though, Don knew this was not the approach she would have used with Charlie. He tried to think what other methods his mom might have used- and stumbled upon one that matched up with his mother perfectly.

She probably would have used music.

"Come on, Charlie", Don directed, "We'll try another way that doesn't involve numbers, so that maybe you can concentrate on just the dancing."

With hesitating steps, Charlie gingerly positioned his right hand in Don's again, circling his brother's waist with his left.

"Okay- first question- do you like girls or not?"

Charlie was taken aback by the question. His response was a squeaky "yes".

"Well, act like it. If you're going to hold a woman, mean it. You need to pull her close and **hold her**- you can't just barely touch her and expect her to let you lead her. You have to show her you _want_ to hold her, _want_ to dance with her- that you just plain _want_ her."

Don pulled Charlie closer to him. In response, Charlie held his brother's hand more tightly, gripping his waist with a firm touch, but still making sure that they were not touching in any way that would make them self-conscious.

"That's it," Don praised. "Now- forget the one, two, three crap. I'm going to sing and move my body- close your eyes and just listen to the beat of the song and try to move your body the same as mine."

Charlie nodded his head in agreement, closing his eyes.

Slowly moving side to side with the beat of the music-

**Step left, step right, step left, step right**

Don began to sing-

_I never understood before  
I never knew what love was for _

**Step left, step right, step left, step right**

_My heart was broke, my head was sore _

**Slow swing of the hips- **_What a feeling _

**Step left, step right, step left, step right**

_Tied up in ancient history  
I didn't believe in destiny_

**Step left, step right, step left, step right**

_I look up you're standing next to me_

**Slow swing of the hips- **_What a feeling _

Pause-

"Okay, Charlie- now you're getting it- let's try moving around more in a circle."

Quick nod.

**Step left, step front, step right, step back**

_What a feeling in my soul  
Love burns brighter than sunshine _

_Brighter than sunshine_

**Step left, step front, step right, step back**

_Let the rain fall, I don't care  
I'm yours and suddenly you're mine_

**Swing of the hips- **_Suddenly you're mine _

**Back and forth of the hips- **_And it's brighter than sunshine _

Pause-

"I think you got it, Charlie! Now, we'll add some hip rocking- with every word, move your hip one way, then the other- use your hands to make me do the same. Try to follow the beat. And when you swing your hips, go around in a circle."

Nod.

**Step, step, rock, rock**

_I never saw it happening  
I'd given up and given in _

**Step, step, rock, rock**

_I just couldn't take the hurt again _

**Slow swing of the hips- **_What a feeling _

**Step, step, rock, rock**

I didn't have the strength to fight  
Suddenly you seemed so right

**Rock, rock, rock- **_Me and you _

**Slow swing of the hips- **_What a feeling _

Pause.

"You've got it, Charlie! You've got it. Now, open your eyes and look right into mine. Yeah- okay, now do everything at once. Rock side to side, swing your hips back and forth, and take steps around in a circle. Just concentrate on my eyes and my singing."

A smile and 'okay' and the Eppes brothers were in full swing dancing, both smiling as Charlie finally let loose and started to move quicker and more loosely, following Don's singing.

**Step, rock, step, rock, step, rock**

_What a feeling in my soul  
Love burns brighter than sunshine _

_It's brighter than sunshine _

**Step, rock, step, rock, step, rock**

_Let the rain fall, I don't care  
I'm yours and suddenly you're mine  
Suddenly you're mine _

**Slow swing of the hips**_- It's brighter than the sun_

**Slow swing of the hips- **_It's brighter than the sun_

**Let go of waist- **_It's brighter than the _

**Spin, Spin, Spin_- _**_sun, sun, shine._

**_Crash_.**

Don found himself flat on his back, laughing so hard he couldn't ask Charlie why he had tried to spin his much taller brother. It was a good thing, too, as Charlie didn't know why he had, either; he just remembered the move from an old film he had watched late one night. If he had been thinking about his numbers, though, he probably would have also remembered the difference in height between him and Don, which would have forfeited his attempt.As it was, during the last spin, Don could not quite twist his body under Charlie's extended arm, his feet overlapping as he lost his balance and fell to the floor. Charlie had been quick this time out- he had deftly removed himself from the path of Don's falling body, avoiding the same fate as his elder sibling.

Charlie just stood over Don, giggling while he stepped back and forth, trying to keep the memory of his lesson so he wouldn't forget it before his date with Amita.

"Well," Don finally said, looking mischievously at Charlie, "I have to admit that's one move that will help you get Amita where you want her- on her back and breathless."

Charlie stood straight, placing his hand over his heart, feigning shock.

"I, Charles Eppes, am a gentleman- I would never use such tactics to take advantage of a lady."

Raising an eyebrow to Charlie, Don used his best southern belle impression to reply-

"_You're a natural gentleman, one of the very few that are left in the world."_

His brother replied with his own Rhett Butler imitation-

"Yes, my dear, because, frankly, I _do_ give a damn."

"Well," Don continued to drawl, batting his eyelashes dramatically and laying his clasped hands under his chin, "you won't mind helping a lady up."

"Why certainly," Charlie's Rhett voice replied, as he held out a hand to his brother.

As Don grabbed hold of Charlie's hand, and his brother pulled him up, he continued to play, "Thank, you kind sir, -_I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."_

Continuing to laugh, Don looked up at the clock and realized it was time for his co-workers to start arriving.

"Hey, Charlie, help me put these chairs and this table back."

Soon, the room looked like it did before and the brothers headed to the interrogation room door. Don placed an affectionate arm around his brother's shoulder- and slid his arm around Charlie's head so swiftly it took the younger brother a full minute to realize Don was giving him a noogie.

"He who laughs last, laughs best," Don said, releasing his brother and exiting with a superior air-

until he realized the observation room was tightly packed with federal agents, all of whom had been carefully- and unmercifully- keeping their own laughter under strong constraints-

constraints that buckled upon the entrance of Special Agent Donald Eppes and his brother.

Don couldn't comprehend the entire situation. He only knew that the raucous laughter he heard was more for him than for Charlie. He also knew it would be a long time- if ever- before he would be able to live this down. So, doing what he did best, he gave every agent in the room his best scowl and walked swiftly from the room,tryingtoescape the catcalls that followed him-

"Dance with me Eppes- or is your dance card all full?"

"No-dance with me- I'll make _you _give a damn-"

"Let me hold you, Eppes- I can help you get _'up'_-"

"If you like being on your back so much, I've got some moves that'll _keep _you there"-

"Hey, Eppes, save the last dance for me?"

Meanwhile, Charlie stood before the crowd of agents, bowing deeply at the waist over and over again, a smile so large on his face it threatened to break. With an overstated flourish of his hand, he then left the group of agents and went to stop at Don's desk to thank him. Don just mumbled a reply and Charlie headed for the elevator.

As agents started spreading throughout the bull pen, the sound of their laughter carried to Don's ears, making them ring. He chanced a glance around, and then watched his brother as he was leaving. Charlie held his right hand up while he held his own waist with his left hand. He was singing to himself as he continued to rock side to side, throwing in a little hip swinging for good measure. Though the place was full of agents talking about him- and laughing- the only sound Don heard was the quiet singing of his brother, which resonated in his head long after his baby brother had gone, somehow stifling the noise of all the other people around him.

While he typed in the last ofhis report,Don smiled to himself with self-satisfaction, humming quietly-

_What a feeling!_


	2. The Set Up

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or any of the characters therein. I do not own the rights to _Lady Marmalade_: it was written by Bob Crew and Kenny Nolan- lyrics are all over the internet, so in the public domain. The version I use is from the Moulin Rouge movie, 2001; don't own the copyright for anything from there, either.

Author's note: Second part in a trilogy of dancing that involves Don- T rating, cause I don't go further than boxers and a t-shirt.Chapter 2 is the setup (not so much fun), Chapter 3 the denouement (hope we have a lot of fun); the two chapters together make a TwoShot- bang, bang.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He turned it over and over in his hands. The package was a flat, brown-papered rectangle, reminding him of the way dirty magazines were often wrapped. No return address was written on the front, just his name and address in the center, a stamp of "Washington, D.C." in the corner. After shaking it a couple times, he tore it open and discovered a simple black DVD case, with the words "Training Video" drawn in white, glaring letters across the front.

Special Agent Don Eppes placed his mail on the coffee table in his living room, opening the DVD case while sitting down on his couch. The DVD itself had no writing on its face to indicate what had been recorded on it. Curious, he clicked on his television and put in the disc, pressing play and turning up the volume on the set. He sat back in his seat, languidly running his right hand through his hair.

What appeared on the screen made him smile. He realized he was watching the recording of the last birthday party he had attended for his ex-fiancé, Kim. It had been quite an unusual affair. First, it had taken place after hours at a small strip club; the owner had allowed them to use the place for the few hours it shut down daily. Second, the only guests had been Kim, her FBI fiancé, and five former prostitutes-turned-strippers. Last, Don himself had only a foggy memory of the party, as he had become wasted within the first hour, leaving him to speculate as to exactly how the party had ended. He knew that somehow he had woken up in bed with Kim- but, well, the time between his fifth (sixth, seventh) beer and then was just jagged pieces of memory.

As for the five strippers who had added the splash to the party, they were former informants for Kim. They had been working the streets at one time or another; during different investigations, Kim had worked with each one individually. The independent woman in her did not like to see the way these women were treated, nor did she like the risks they took. She was realistic, though, in her pursuits to help them change careers. So, she had introduced them-one at a time throughout several years- to another former informant, the owner of a local strip club. The girls- as Don referred to them- had each eagerly changed careers, what with no longer having to be touched by clients, the ability to take home all their pay, and, well, the health benefits helped, too. They were forever grateful to Kim.

For Kim's birthday that year, the strippers had thrown her a surprise party, the only other people in on it being Don and the club owner. The first hour had been gift opening and beer drinking- the former done happily by Kim, the latter done earnestly by Don. As he viewed how the evening progressed, Don easily understood the joke behind Kim writing "Training Video" on the DVD case. Toward the end of the party, Kim's five pals had tried to teach Don how to satisfy his girlfriend in a visually pleasing way. Don grinned; drunk as he was, he had not been a very good pupil.

Don stopped the DVD and ejected it from the player, placing it back into its case. Though seeing them together made a small piece of his heart melt, Don wanted to keep the recording as a reminder of the happiness he and Kim had once shared, and the effect she once had upon him: just being with Kim had made him relax and do things he never thought himself capable of doing. Smiling, he was about to put the case in with his other DVDs when he thought of something- or rather, someone:

Charlie.

His little brother was prone to go through his things, and Don did not want him to see the recording. He sat and debated what to do, because he knew Charlie was good at finding things- even those things he had no idea existed. Somehow, his little brother got his hands on everything Don tried to hide.

Which made Don think that maybe he better not hide the DVD in the apartment, but rather store it where he could keep it close at hand; in a place where he could keep his eyes on it whenever Charlie was about.

Grabbing his jacket, Don went to his SUV, the small, black case grasped in his hand; he leaned over and shoved the DVD under the front seat. While he started up his car, he thought to himself that he had made a good decision on where he had placed it. Charlie always worked on his equations when he rode with Don; his brother would never take the time to look around the truck.

Besides, when Charlie was in the truck, so was Don. He was confident that if his younger brother suddenly- out of the blue, for the first time- became curious about its contents, Don would be sitting there to take the case right out of his hands.

Overall, a very good plan, Agent Eppes, he thought.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several weeks passed, and Don was busy working with Charlie on a conference presentation; over three hundred Bureau agents were coming to the L.A. office to attend.

Don was excited.

It was an honor to have been asked to make a presentation. He was going to discuss tactical assault techniques, while Charlie supplemented his visuals with an explanation of how several algorithms could determine angles of inceptions in the planning stages of an assault.

Every agent was busy with one assignment or another having to do with the conference; the regional director would also be attending, and the L.A. office wanted everything- and everybody- to look professional and organized. Tension buzzed throughout the office the days leading up to the conference- and droned the actual day it was to be held. That Monday morning, there was not an agent within the confines of the city that did not know how important this conference was.

If anything went wrong, heads were going to roll.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of course, several things went wrong.

The first one that hit Don was the flat tire he received while driving himself and Charlie to the Bureau conference. He barely maintained control as he skidded to the side of the highway, the front end of his truck moderately smashing into the side barrier that curved along the road. After checking to make sure Charlie was okay- 'yeah, I'm still working here'- he got out to inspect the damage while a car pulled up behind him, a large man asking if they needed help. Throwing open the cover of his cell phone to call a tow truck, the agent mouthed 'no- thanks anyway' to the man, who got in his car and drove away. The tow truck was going to be an hour, so the two brothers were stuck on the side of the highway- and would be dangerously close to being late for their presentation.

Over an hour later, the tow truck still hadn't shown up. Don called the place several times, the impatience in the receptionist's voice getting nastier each time he asked 'how long?' She reminded him again that they only took cash, and for the first time it occurred to Don that he might not have enough. He had mistakenly played poker with his dad the previous night, trying to relax; the old man had practically wiped him out. Checking his wallet, Don had exactly enough money to pay the tow, with a three dollar excess for a tip. Well, he wouldn't be eating lunch for the rest of the week, but at least he could get the truck- and himself- dragged to the Bureau; it was a company car, and they would take care of the damage. Unfortunately, it would take several weeks- and mounds of paperwork- before he would be reimbursed for the towing expenses.

The tow truck finally did show up thirty minutes before Don was supposed to begin the first part of his presentation- a short film showing agents using the tactile assault techniques that he and Charlie were going to further discuss.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

Here, the second thing to go wrong hit Don- or rather, his truck-literally.

The tow truck driver had backed into the front of his SUV, causing more damage. Don decided he needed to supervise the young man, images of his truck disconnecting in the middle of traffic running through the agent's head. First, though, he called a cab for Charlie, explaining to them where they were on the highway, using the last exit they had passed as a reference point. Then, Don poked his head into the opened driver's side window-

"Hey, buddy."

Charlie looked up at Don. He had had no idea what was going on, his mind completely preoccupied with the numbers he was running in his head. Looking around, Charlie finally realized that they had hit the highway barrier, and a tow truck driver was attempting to back up to the front of Don's SUV- rather unsuccessfully, as he hit the front end again.

Don swore, yelling at the driver to wait till he could get there. The stubborn young man pulled forward. He leaned out his window and turned to look at the truck, the sound of him slowly backing up again grating on Don's ears. Just then, a yellow cab pulled up behind the truck. Seeing it out of the corner of his eyes, Don told Charlie-

"Look, I gotta stay here till this yahoo has my truck hooked up- can you take my film to the Bureau and play it for them while I do this? That way, they'll have watched it by the time I get there and our presentation won't be late?"

"No problem, Don," Charlie responded, gathering up the laptop, papers, and leather portfolio that surrounded him on the seat.

"Thanks, buddy, " Don replied, running to the door of the tow truck and yelling at its driver to wait. The driver ignored him, backing into the SUV once again.

Charlie dropped half his materials on the floor at the impact. Bending over to pick them up, he grabbed everything that his hand touched under the seat. Looking out the windshield, he saw Don arguing with the tow truck driver, who had pulled forward and seemed intent on backing up once again. Wasting no time, Charlie jumped out the driver's side door and headed to the cab. After telling the driver his destination, Charlie sat down in the back seat of the car, putting his papers in order and placing his brother's DVD in the holder of his laptop. He felt sorry for his brother; today was important, and he felt things could not possibly get worse for him.

He was wrong.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The main conference room at the L.A. office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was actually a large auditorium, containing 350 seats with connected foldable desktops, all tightly set into stadium-style rows. The seating area led down to a main floor set up with computer and video equipment that faced a large white screen, a long table running along the left-hand wall with seats for 'guests of honor'. There were only three people occupying these special seats, their seniority tiered like the auditorium: Assistant Director Merrick, Director Donaldson, and Regional Director Gray. As the first two tried their best to look busy- moving about files, whispering into the ears of underlings who rushed by- the last one tapped his fingers on the table slowly and purposefully.

Finally, Merrick turned to Gray apologetically.

"Special Agent Eppes is never late- there must be a problem. I assure you, the wait shouldn't be much longer."

Gray looked at his watch- 9:07- seven minutes late. He really didn't care if the agent was late or not- these conferences were _boring as hell_- but he wasn't about to tell the other two men that.

Instead, he threw them a perturbed look and tapped the table harder.

Clearing his throat hesitantly, Donaldson added-

"Really- Eppes is one of our most reliable men."

Tiring of their excuses, Gray sighed, stopped moving his fingers, and looked piercingly at the two men.

"Forget about it- you don't have to apologize for Eppes- I worked with him for a while in Albuquerque and happen to personally know he is probably the most responsible agent in the Bureau."

He did not add what he really thought-

_and probably the most boring._

As he recalled, the guy never had any fun; he wouldn't even go drinking with the rest of the agents after work- well, maybe for one beer, but while the rest of the guys_ drank_, Eppes would just sit there writing one damn report after another. If fate hadn't intervened and presented a family tragedy upon the younger agent, Gray assumed that his own current position would have been filled by Eppes.

I guess I should thank him for the small favor, he thought ruefully, though he felt the boring presentation he was about to suffer through probably made them even.

Gray was shaken from his thoughts when a thin young man suddenly bounced into the room. He noted the rumpled t-shirt, oversized suit jacket, and long curly hair that accented the newcomer's attire. Curious, Gray waited to be introduced.

Charlie came over to the table, recognizing Don's bosses- but not the third man sitting next to them. He set his materials at the table's edge, trying to balance them while he offered an explanation for his brother's absence.

"Sorry we're late- Don blew a tire on the way here- tow truck driver didn't know what he was doing, so he stayed- I came. He'll be here before the first third of our presentation is over."

The unknown party at the table offered his hand to Charlie, who shook it gently.

"I'm Regional Director Gray- it's a pleasure to meet Don's brother. He may have already told you that we worked together in Albuquerque?"

Charlie grinned.

"Actually, no, he didn't mention it. As a matter of fact, I didn't even know he had been _engaged_ until about a year ago."

Gray believed that sounded like something Eppes would do; keeping his romantic life to himself could easily be a result of his professional, all-business-no-fun attitude.

The niceties aside, Charlie informed the men-

"I've got a training film for this group to watch until Don comes. Then, we'll finish up the presentation when he arrives, if that's okay."

"Fine, fine," Gray waved a tired hand.

Before Charlie prepared to show the film, he asked another agent to pass out a stack of manila folders to the agents in the auditorium. Inside were his and Don's written summary of the presentation.

Charlie then dimmed the lights, taking out his brother's DVD, and placing it into a computer so its image would be projected onto the large white screen hanging down at the front of the room.

Charlie moved the computer's mouse over the word 'play' on the video menu.

As an image came up on the screen, he put aside the black DVD case with the words "Training Video" written in white, glaring letters across the front.


	3. Don Gets it in the End

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or any of the characters therein. I do not own the rights to _Lady Marmalade_: it was written by Bob Crew and Kenny Nolan- lyrics are all over the internet, so in the public domain. The version I use is from the Moulin Rouge movie, 2001; don't own the copyright for anything from there, either.

Author's note: Second part in a trilogy of dancing that involves Don- T rating, cause I don't go further than boxers and a t-shirt. Chapter 2 is the setup (not so much fun), Chapter 3 the denouement (hope we have a lot of fun); the two chapters together make a TwoShot- bang, bang.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie settled into a seat next to the computer, busily writing in his notebook. It took him several minutes to realize that his brother's voice was waffled in between the sound of laughter coming from the screen. He slowly looked up, puzzled by what he saw.

"What the hell is _this?_!"

Charlie whipped his head around to the sound of the voice. Regional Director Gray had come out of his seat- and was heading toward the confused professor.

As Gray approached with a steady stride, Charlie could not take his eyes off him.

"I'm, uh, not sure- I don't know- I must've grabbed the wrong DVD." He grabbed his portfolio and tried to find Don's other film.

Standing next to Charlie, Gray grabbed hold of the computer mouse. He couldn't believe what he was watching.

Special Agent Don Eppes was sitting around a table with five-no, six- blondes- all but one of them half-naked; if he could venture a guess, the director would swear they were strippers. There were a dozen empty bottles of beer at Eppes elbow- from the way he swayed and with the glossed-over look in his eyes, he had probably consumed most of them himself. Gray finally recognized the center blonde as Eppes' ex-fiancé Kim- boy, did he ever blow that, he thought. It was apparently her birthday, for she was opening up a gift and holding up some very lacy lingerie, kissing the goofy-smiling man next to her as a thank you.

Shaking his head, the director turned the volume down on the film- not interested in the light banter, focusing instead on the visuals. Ignoring the horrified looks of Merrick and Donaldson- who were desperately trying to become one with their chairs- Gray was completely fascinated by what he was seeing on the screen. He just couldn't figure out why the unimaginative Eppes- who wears a suit to this kind of party?- would think to throw his fiancé a birthday party with _female _strippers. If he had wanted to make _her _happy, they'd have all been _male_. She apparently didn't mind, and Gray couldn't help but think again that Eppes had certainly blown that one.

As the recording progressed with little activity but gift-giving and cake-eating, Gray became aware of the quiet grumbling of boredom behind him. He sighed. Well, he thought, leave it to Eppes to be in a room full of blondes and think of nothing better to do than to eat cake.

The director started skipping through the disc, his hopes of seeing something provocative dashed as one scene after another zipped past.

Bor-ing, he thought. Why couldn't that guy ever have any fun?

Charlie stood next to Gray; his eyes never left the screen, as he was just as fascinated by his brother's choice in birthday party guests as was the director. Also, he had never seen Don completely drunk- no, wasted- before, not to the extent that he appeared to be in this recording.

Both he and Gray were thinking the same thing, though- even drunk, Special Agent Don Eppes still maintained control.

Well, that's that, thought Gray, sighing in disappointment. He had hoped there would be something on the film to break up the monotony of the day; seeing the most straight-laced agent he ever met out of control would have-

Suddenly, the angle of the camera changed. What was apparently the stage of a strip club came into focus, and five females were leading Don Eppes toward the center pole, while, on the left side of the screen, the birthday girl straddled a stool placed on the stage edge.

Gray turned the volume up- way up.

There were no more grumbling noises behind him. Every agent in the place had collectively become attentive, as more than half of them knew Agent Eppes. Along with Charlie, they all watched mesmerized.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"**Come, on, Donnie- you gotta give Kim a proper gift," **a tall blonde with a sequined bra and double-slit skirt coaxed, pulling the agent by his left arm while three others pushed him from behind.

"**I already gave her a proper gift," **he protested, thought about it, **"Okay, not proper, but a gift..."**

Having positioned him center-stage, the girls got busy. One positioned herself behind Don, placing her arms around his neck and loosening his tie. She pressed against him just a little more than necessary, but not enough to concern Kim.

"**When a man gives a woman lingerie, the gift's really for _him_- not _her_", **another one explained, undoing the first few buttons of the long-sleeved shirt he wore under his brown suit jacket, revealing the white t-shirt underneath, and then standing to his left.

A third girl ran her fingers through his hair, mussing it enough to make him look oh, so sexy. She then stood over to his right.

The last two girls were busy at the back of the stage, setting up some music and dimming the lights slightly. When the music began to filter from overhead speakers, these two surrounded Kim; the threesome became busy with whooping calls and whistles, cheering Don to perform.

Don flushed, lightly leaning back against his rear escort to maintain his balance.

Then the sound of singing- and the girls went to work.

_Where's all mah soul sistas  
Lemme hear ya'll flow sistas_

The first girl reached around Don's neck and completely undid his tie, pulling it off.

_Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista  
Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, go sista _

The two on his left directed him to take his jacket down at the right shoulder – on and off- then the left.

_He met Marmalade down IN old Moulin Rouge  
Struttin' her stuff on the street_

The rear girl pulled the jacket down off his arms, letting him hold the sleeves in his hands.

_She said, "Hello, hey Jo, you wanna give it a go?" Oh! uh huh_

The girls turned Don around with his back to Kim, showing him how to move his jacket back and forth against his back, one standing in front of him holding his hips and swinging them back in forth to the rhythm of-

_Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada (Hey hey hey)_

Jacket back and forth-

_Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya here (here)_

Hips rocking-

_Mocha Chocalata ya ya (oh yea)_

Then he swung the jacket in a circle over his head-

_Creole lady Marmalade_

Don lost the jacket as the girls turned him back around to face Kim- and the camera-

_What What, What what  
Ooh oh_

From behind, Don's friendly helper lay on his back, her hands crossed over his chest, pressing her hips to his rear, moving his hips back and forth in time with hers-

_Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir  
Voulez vous coucher avec moi  
yea yea yea yea_

Backing off, the girls prompted Don to unbutton his shirt-

_He sat in her boudoir while she freshened up_

Shirt undone-

_Boy drank all that Magnolia wine_

The girls turned Don around again, pulling the shirt down around his elbows-

_On her black satin sheets is where he started to freak yeah_

Trying to imitate the motions of the girls, Don pulled the shirt back and forth across his back-

_Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada (da-da-da)_

Tried sliding his hips side to side-

_Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya here (here ohooh yea yeah)_

Took his shirt off the rest of the way-

_Mocha Choca lata ya ya (yea)_

Swung it over his head and discarded it-

_Creole lady Marmalade_

Another girl grabbed him from behind, pushing him forward with her body as her hands moved his hips-

Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir (ce soir, what what what)

Then undid his belt, placing him in front of Kim-

_Voulez vous coucher avec moi _

Yea yea uh  
He come through with the money and the garter belts

Kim smiled, leaning over to grab the end of Don's belt in her teeth-

_I let him know we bout that cake straight up the gate uh_

Don was pulled back so the belt would slide off-

_We independent women, some mistake us for whores  
I'm sayin', why spend mine when I can spend yours _

Hesitantly, Don undid his zipper-

_Disagree? Well that's you and I'm sorry_

He kicked off one shoe, then the other-

_Imma keep playing these cats out like Atari_

Before he could change his mind, two girls grabbed his pants and tugged down, revealing his white boxers beneath-

_Wear high heel shoes get love from the dudes_

Helped him pull them all the way off, tossing them to the side-

_4 bad ass chicks from the Moulin Rouge_

The girls gently pushed Don toward the center pole-

_Hey sistas, soul sistas, betta get that dough sistas_

Facing Kim, Don placed his right hand on the pole, wrapped his right leg around-

_We drink wine with diamonds in the glass_

Slid around the pole-

_By the case the meaning of expensive taste_

Lost his balance, falling on his back to the floor-

_If you wanna Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya _

Stunned, Don's goofy grin reappeared-

_Mocha Chocalate-a what?_

He ran his hands one after the other over and over his face-

_Creole Lady Marmalade_

Lay on his right side, pressing down on his shoulder-

_One more time C'mon now_

Spun in a circle in his best Curly imitation-

Marmalade... Lady Marmalade... Marmalade...

Then lay flat on his stomach, impressively pushing himself back to his feet-

_Hey Hey Hey!_

Faced Kim and the girls all gathered around her stool, a serious look on his face-

_Touch of her skin feeling silky smooth_

Ran his hands up and down opposite arms, his pelvis thrusting forward as he started stepping toward the girls-

_Color of cafe au lait alright_

Clasped his hands in front of his groin, index fingers pointed and with thumbs up, holding his hands like a gun-

_Made the savage beast inside roar until he cried,_

Thrust hands and pelvis up three times to

_More-more-more_

Put his hands out to either side, right hip moving forward-

_Now he's back home doin' 9 to 5_

His left hip swung forward-

_Livin' a grey flannel life_

Put both his hands behind his head-

_But when he turns off to sleep memories creep,_

Three more thrusts of the pelvis to-

_More-more-more_

"**More, More, More" screamed all six women, laughing and cheering Don on.**

Don moved his right hand to cover part of his chest, then his left hand, moving his hips in a slow circle-

_Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada (da daeaea yea)_

Placed a hand on each hip, shaking his lower body slowly back and forth-

_Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya here (ooh)_

Turned around and gave a few shakes of his rear-

_Mocha Choca lata ya ya (yea)_

Ended with a slow circular movement of his hips-

_Creole lady Marmalade_

He turned to face the girls again-

Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir (ce soir)

Started to slowly lift his undershirt up over his stomach-

_Voulez vous coucher avec moi (all my sistas yea)_

The six girls whooping and hooting- "**Take it off"**

_Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir (ce soir)_

Don pulled his shirt back down, grinning-

_Voulez vous coucher avec moi (C'Mon! uh)_

Protests of "**Tease!"**

_Christina...(oh Leaeaa Oh)_

One girl ran on stage to Don-

_Pink... (Lady Marmalade)_

Then another, and another- starting to dance around Don-

_Lil' Kim...(hey Hey! uh uh uh uh...)_

A fourth arrived, leaning into him-

_Mya...(Oh Oh oooo)_

Kim and the last girl-

Don was suddenly surrounded by six blondes, all grinding around him to the beat of the music.

_Rot wailer baby...(baby)  
Moulin Rouge... (0h)  
Misdemeanor here... _

Creole Lady Marmalade Yes-ah...

A silly look on his face, Don pulled himself away from the group, trying to pick up his clothes and get dressed. He leaned over to grab his pants, when-

Pinch!

He jumped up, turning to the girl standing directly behind him, waving an index finger back and forth in her smiling face, his alcohol-laden body moving along with the motion of the finger. It didn't take long for the other girls to catch on to the joke, as every time he went to bend over he felt the coming together of numerous fingers.

After finally picking up all his clothes, Don rubbed his bottom and feigned indignity as he tried to stalk off the stage. Instead, he tripped on the last step and fell to the floor, where six females rushed to his aide, helping him walk off-camera while they made sympathetic noises-

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-noises that were lost in the din caused by the laughing of several hundred federal agents in the L.A. Bureau's conference center.

There was such a ruckus going on, Regional Director Gray had a hard time hearing _himself_ laugh. All he knew was that he and Eppes' brother were leaning against each other, both of them holding their sides and trying not to fall to the floor as they attempted to catch their breath.

Donaldson and Merrick were not so amused. While they were faintly aware of the laughter booming off the auditorium walls, each one had sunk into his own little world, trying to decide whether or not he would have a career at the end of the day- knowing that _Eppes_ definitely would not.

The riot was unpleasantly interrupted by the appearance of a secretary, who was stunned at the sight of so many agents bent over grabbing their stomachs, and who wondered if somehow a perpetrator had managed to fill the entire room with laughing gas. Shrugging her shoulders, she crossed to Gray and, making sure she was heard, yelled at the top of her lungs-

"I have a message from an Agent Eppes- he said he just arrived with his vehicle downstairs and will be up to finish his presentation within five minutes."

Gray and Charlie immediately stood up, each shoving his personal amusement into the pit of his stomach. Following the director's lead, the rest of the federal agents reluctantly composed themselves, sporadic outbursts of laughing escaping here and there in the aisles of the auditorium.

Remembering the DVD, Charlie snatched it from the computer and shoved it into its case. Panicking, he was looking for a place to hide it when Gray grabbed it from his hand and took it back to the long table at which he had been previously sitting. He lifted up a file and placed the case underneath.

Charlie breathed out slowly, the relief allowing him to dwell once again on the DVD; it took reciting every equation he had worked on in the past year to keep him from bubbling over in laughter again.

He was not the only one having a hard time controlling himself. Don's team members- David, Colby, and Megan- had all chosen to sit at the top of the auditorium's stadium seating, hoping to keep their heads buried behind their manila folders when Charlie started in with his algorithms. Now, their faces were hidden behind the folders for another reason.

Megan had an idea.

A brilliant one.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don rushed out of the elevator, heading towards the conference room. He couldn't believe how late he was running; the film should have finished ten minutes before, and Charlie could not start his part of the presentation until Don had done his.

Wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, Don carried a Kevlar vest in one hand and two fake guns in the other. He had planned on showing a few moves with a volunteer, but now he wasn't sure if there would be enough time for that portion. He just prayed that the film had kept them occupied while he was gone- and that it was interesting enough for them to discuss afterwards.

His fellow agents' interest in the film was the only thing he needn't have worried about.

Don walked into the conference room auditorium, poised and ready for action. He boldly strode to where his bosses and the regional director sat, carefully dropping his materials on the table, offering his hand and an apology-

"I am sorry that I am so late- I hope my film kept my fellow agents engaged in my absence."

Don was not surprised to see glaring anger on the faces of his bosses. However, he was concerned when he saw that the director's face was scrunched up, like he was holding in a very bad sneeze; he really looked like he was on the verge of exploding.

Turning away with a concerned look on his face, Don walked up to Charlie, who kept his eyes downcast as his brother addressed him.

"Hey, buddy," he whispered, "Thanks for showing my film." He patted him on the shoulder.

Charlie mumbled something under his breath. Don leaned closer-

"No, I mean it- if it weren't for you, this day would have never happened."

At that, Charlie slinked away and leaned against the fall wall, his eyes never leaving the floor.

Don stood up straight; he tried to shake off a bad feeling he was getting from his brother's behavior. He was about to address his peers when Megan raised her hand, waving it to get his attention.

Now, what? he thought.

"Special Agent Reeves- I'm sure you have a lot of questions concerning the training video. I would rather you wait until I am done discussing it before asking them."

"First, I know you saw some good moves"-

Several agents started giggling.

Don paused, glaring in their direction.

He was surprised when his scowl had no effect on their behavior.

Deciding to ignore their rudeness, he continued-

"I am sure you also paid close attention to the attire that was worn"-

Other agents began snickering.

"Though I am sure it appeared that it was not much covering"-

There were more subdued trickles of laughter.

"It is exactly this type of clothing that you will need to wear if you want to get the most from your performance"-

Movement began to course throughout the auditorium.

"I hope you noted that the principles involved worked together to obtain their single goal"-

People were shuffling in their seats.

"And, in the end, that all personnel had any areas of concern covered in a pinch"-

Don stopped completely.

What the hell was going on?

He was looking at the individual members of his audience; most of them were hiding their faces behind the manila envelopes that held Charlie and his written report. Others were obtusely looking around the room, their eyes roaming from one place to the next- but none of them focused on Don. They _all _seemed to be having some kind of muscular fit, their faces pulled back in tight grimaces.

Looking to his left, Don stared at Charlie, who briefly met his eyes and then turned to play with the edge of the screen.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

Don turned and surveyed the audience. Megan raised her hand again, waving it so hard that Don was starting to get a headache from just looking at it.

"Yes, Special Agent Reeves?" he asked in an irritated voice.

"I don't want to interrupt your lecture, sir, but there seems to be a problem with this report you handed out."

Rolling his eyes, Don took a copy of the report from the hands of the nearest agent.

Perusing it, he looked up at Megan and told her he saw nothing wrong.

"Well," she said, licking her lips, "mine appears to be different from the agents on either side of me- could you come take a look?"

Since he wasn't keeping the attention of the rest of his peers, Don grudgingly squeezed his way up one of the aisles to Megan's row of seats. He then flattened himself so he could walk to the middle seat, where Megan sat.

"Let me see," he demanded, holding out his hand.

Megan kept the file on her desk, holding its edge tight, and pointed to a sentence at the bottom of the first page.

His directions having been ignored, Don leaned over to see what Megan was talking about-

Pinch!

Don jumped, straightening up.

There was no way he just felt what he did. There must be some very large mosquitoes in this place, he assured himself.

Bending only slightly this time, he again tried to see what Megan was talking about. Somehow, she had moved the file further away and as he bent over lower-

Pinch!

Standing straight, Don turned his body completely to face the person sitting directly behind his posterior. An innocent young agent turned her face up toward him, both of her hands clasped loosely in front of her.

He was about to quietly chide her disrespectful behavior when-

Pinch!

Don turned back around to face the questioning look of Megan-

Pinch!

Half back round again to the inquisitive face of Colby, who smiled mischievously at him, while-

Pinch!

Turn-

Pinch!

Turn-

Pinch!

Don tore the manila file from Megan, placing it across his ass, trying to move as fast as he could across the row, though fingers continued to work their way around the flimsy covering and pinch him once for each person he passed.

When he finally exited the row, his face was pale and his body tense.

He didn't want to, but he had to know if the regional director had observed the unprofessional- and crazy, what are they on?-behavior of his fellow agents.

Looking over the heads of his peers, Don's jaw dropped open when he saw that the director was staring straight across the room at him-

And was laughing.

And was holding up a DVD case.

A case with the words "Training Video" written in glaring, white letters.

Then, in response to Gray- who stood on his feet and held the DVD case next to his head in his left hand, while he waved his right index finger back and forth- those several hundred federal FBI agents stood up and gave Don a standing ovation, crushing him as he stood stunned in the aisle.

It did not take long, however, for Don's initial shock to turn to embarrassment, then to anger, then fury; and for all those emotions to turn toward the focal point, the cause of all the emotions that were boiling within him.

Charlie.

Don's eyes drove through the throng of agents to the front wall of the auditorium. When they arrived at their destination, they slammed into Charlie, who clung with sheer terror to the flatness behind him.

Charlie knew that look.

He knew because he had seen it so many times before.

He knew it from those times he had gone through those things that belonged to his brother.

Don had _tried _to kill him before- and he would probably _do it_ now.

That same thought consumed Don's mind: _I'm going to kill Charlie- no matter how many law enforcement witnesses there are to my crime._

With that single goal the driving force behind him, Don started pushing his way down the aisle, his body now numb to the pressing fingers of the agents he squeezed past.

He was only aware of Charlie.

Because they continued to stand in the aisle and give him a thunderous cheer, Don found it almost impossible to pass his peers; it took five minutes to make the 30 second walk down to where Charlie stood.

Charlie continued to stare in abject horror at his brother. He could not take his eyes off the living fury that came up and grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket. He could not turn away from the heat that emanated from Don's body as his own body tensed. He could not blink- not until his older brother's eyes were inches from his, and the anger behind them was too much to take, and he finally _had_ to look away, had to look toward the floor again, and-

Charlie couldn't help it.

Every muscle in his body relaxed as he started to laugh-

And laugh-

And laugh.

Don pulled back from Charlie, tilting his head down so he could see his brother's expression. Because he knew his brother should be terrified, but it sounded like he was laughing.

He was right; Charlie was laughing.

He was laughing so hard that the only things keeping him from dropping to the ground were his brother's hands grasping his suit jacket.

Don continued to follow Charlie's line of sight-

Backing up slowly, Don loosened his grip on Charlie as he let his brother collapse to the floor.

The total humiliation of the situation drove out the anger in Don and left him without the energy to fight back.

Being who he was, though, he calmly turned from his brother's hysterical laugher, took his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on, walking with his head held high as he exited the auditorium.

Merrick and Donaldson watched Don leave, plotting in their heads the best way to make the agent pay. Next to them, Gray read their minds, clasped them with one hand on each of their backs, and spoke up merrily-

"I'm going to be honest- this was the best- _and I mean best_- conference I have ever attended. I'll make sure there are commendations for you two in my report."

When Gray started to leave the startled men (keeping Don's DVD with him- hell, they had a lot of mutual friends in Albuquerque) he turned and added with a commanding voice:

"And as for Eppes- I expect you'll be reportinga commendation for him as well- and _nothing else_."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though Don walked down five halls, went up ten flights, and traveled all the way through the bull pen to his desk, somehow, he could not shake the laughter.

He sat at his desk, leaned his head back and sighed.

After relaxing that way for five minutes, he stood up and looked at his clothing.

Sighing again, he began to meticulously pull out the singles and fives that so many eager hands had deftly shoved into the waistband of his jeans, all during his passionate flight to kill Charlie.

Two hundred and forty eight dollars later, he figured-

"Hell, at least I got lunch money."


End file.
